


Goodhobbits 3

by Baylor



Series: Goodhobbits [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, post-LOTR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 17:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baylor/pseuds/Baylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Merry is in the Yule spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodhobbits 3

Brandy Hall, Winter 1419  
  
“It’s called,” I said dramatically, holding the item aloft, “mistletoe.”  
  
Two pairs of eyes blinked slowly at me. “Right,” Berilac said slowly.  
  
“Well, yes,” Fredegar said.  
  
From the overstuffed armchair in the corner, Pippin merely lifted the stem of his pipe to me in salute. “Good job, Merry,” he said, and then turned to Berilac and said in a knowing voice, “He’s been at your da’s homebrew again after supper, I’ll wager, though you told us it was all gone.”  
  
“It is all gone,” Berilac said, just as I cut in with, “Stow it, Pippin.”  
  
“Stow it!” Merilac shouted happily from Berilac’s lap. “Stow it!”  
  
“Thank you, Merry,” Berilac said dryly. “I’ll let you explain to his mother where he learned that.”  
  
I was about to retort when Fredegar yawned and waved his hand. “The mistletoe, Merry? Since we’re all quite familiar with it, and it’s common enough, I assume you intend to do something specific with it?”  
  
“It just so happens,” I said, turning away from my other cousins and giving my attention to Fredegar, “that they have an intriguing custom in Rohan concerning mistletoe that I was fortunate to learn of, and that I think bears introducing to the Shire.”  
  
“What custom?” Pippin said, now more interested. “I didn’t hear anything about it.”  
  
“Lady Éowyn told me about it when we were discussing common plants in the Shire and Rohan,” I said. “During their Winterfest celebration, which is much like our Yule, it is the custom to hang mistletoe from the lintels. Anyone who is caught standing underneath the mistletoe is then required to give a kiss to whoever catches them.”  
  
“Really?” Pippin said with sudden great interest, just as Berilac and Fredegar began laughing.  
  
“Tell me, Merry,” Berilac guffawed, “is there a lass in Buckland you haven’t yet required to give you a kiss?”  
  
“Now, look,” I began, just as Fredegar added, “Perhaps this is how he plans to begin working his way through the lasses west of the River.”  
  
I scowled as they laughed, but Pippin put his pipe down and said, “Merry, I think it’s an absolutely brilliant idea.”  
  
“Of course you do,” Berilac snickered, “as you’ve so much ground to make up before you catch up to Merry in the area of lass-kissing.”  
  
“We’re sorry, Merry,” Freddy puffed between guffaws, “but you told us you had serious business to discuss with us. I thought you had come up with another one of your ridiculous money-making endeavors.”  
  
“Look, now,” I said, “those ‘ridiculous’ endeavors kept all of us in pocket money for years. But no, I’m not seeking any personal gain from this idea.”  
  
At that, I gave up trying to speak, for even Pippin could not stop his peals of laughter, and Freddy nearly fell out of his seat.  
  
“If that’s what you say, Merry,” Berilac said, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, as he stood up, Merilac in his arms. “I’ll let Freddy fill me in later; I’ve got to get this one to bed. Say good night, Merilac.”  
  
“Stow it!” Merilac yelled at me, prompting Pippin and Freddy to dissolve in laughter again. I pressed my lips together in irritation. I love my kin dearly, but at times they can be a great trial.  
  
“Good night, Berilac, lads,” I said coolly. “I’ll take this idea up with someone who will take it in the selfless spirit in which I intend it.”  
  
“Oh, Merry, wait,” Pippin said imploringly. “You have to admit it’s funny, you saying you don’t intend any gain from an idea that involves kissing a lass.”  
  
“Especially after that ‘kissing booth’ fiasco at the Fair,” Freddy said.  
  
“Nine years ago, lads,” I said briskly as I strode out of the room, brushing past Berilac.  
  
“We hobbits have long memories,” Berilac said wryly as I passed him, and I heard the three of them start laughing all over again.  


  
***  
  


No one else was going to be interested in the idea, of course, and certainly were not going to take it with any more seriousness than Pippin, Berilac and Freddy had. Pippin implored me to tell him where I’d been going with the thought several times, but it was clear to me there wasn’t much point to pursuing it, so I brushed him off.  
  
It was promising to be a good Yule in the Shire, a welcome change from last year. True, we had not been short of food through last winter, as we first had feared after the last of Sharkey’s Men had been driven out and we had begun to take stock of the damage, but the season passed without proper feasting, and certainly without the proper spirit.  
  
This year looked to be a different tale. There wasn’t a hobbit in the Shire who hadn’t worked harder in the past year than they had ever worked before, and the rewards of that hard work were going to be enjoyed during the winter holiday season.  
  
I really had only meant to introduce an interesting custom I had discovered to the Shire. In fact, the idea had come to me from Frodo, of all people, the last time I had been to Bag End a few weeks prior. We had been discussing the upcoming Yule season and started comparing what we had learned of holiday customs in foreign lands, and I had told him of the Rohan mistletoe custom. He had laughed heartily and said it sounded like a custom I would take keen interest in, and then added that there were probably many hobbit tweenagers who would love to see such a custom in the Shire.  
  
It is good to see Frodo laugh, and it made the idea stick with me, until I determined that I should start sharing it with my fellow hobbits. It’s for the enjoyment of everyone, after all.  
  
I have always been a philanthropist at heart.  
  
But it may be that I had played just as hard as I had worked in the past year, and perhaps paid a bit too much attention to a few too many lasses. At least, that’s what one or two of said lasses had informed me at one point or another. And now it would seem that I had lost credibility with my mates, at least when it came to anything involving lasses and kissing.  
  
So I set the idea aside and instead went back to helping direct the Hall preparations for the season. I was going over the storeroom books for Father one afternoon when Mother came into the study and came to stand beside me.  
  
“Yes, Mother?” I asked distractedly, while trying to determine how the cooks were going through honey at the rate they did.  
  
“Look up, Meriadoc,” Mother said, so I turned my head to look at her.  
  
“No, up,” she said, and I followed her outstretched arm to her fingers, which were dangling a sprig of mistletoe over my head. Before I could say a word, she bent and placed a kiss on my check. I began laughing.  
  
“Now, who put that idea in your head, Mum?” I said, and she laughed with me.  
  
“Pippin, of course,” she said, and sat down in the armchair. “I think he feels badly about some teasing he and some of your other friends engaged in recently.”  
  
“Ah,” I said, and blushed. “I suspect it may have been deserved, I confess.”  
  
“Please, don’t confess anything more,” Mother said. “There’s only so much a mother wishes to know about her eligible, attractive young son.”  
  
I felt my face getting hot, but I nodded my head slightly to her in acknowledgement, then cleared my throat. “I really did learn about that custom from Lady Éowyn, and I doubt she had nefarious purposes for telling me,” I said. “I was telling Frodo about it a few weeks ago and he seemed so delighted by the thought of young hobbits running about the Shire stealing kisses under door lintels that I thought I should start spreading it about. It seems, however, that I’m somewhat lacking in credibility . And on top of that, no one will believe I’m not trying to make money off of it.”  
  
Mother nodded sagely. “It’s quite un-entrepreneurial of you,” she said, and I sighed heavily.  
  
“I didn’t realize I had accumulated such a black reputation,” I said woefully, and Mother laughed.  
  
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that being interested in a pretty lass, or even several pretty lasses, and having a sharp mind for business qualify as a black reputation,” she said. “But perhaps you have been marketing this particular idea to the wrong crowd.”  
  
“What do you mean?” I asked, and she leaned in conspiratorially to tell me.  


  
***  
  


At dinner, I paused beside Great-Great-Aunt Buttercup’s chair, dangled a sprig of mistletoe over her head, and innocently said, “Good day, Auntie,” before placing a gentle kiss to her wrinkled, powdered cheek.  
  
“Well, good day, Meriadoc!” she exclaimed with delight while her tablemates of spinster and widowed aunties twittered with pleasure. “What made me such a lucky maiden today?”  
  
“Why, you’re under the mistletoe, Auntie,” I said, and moved my hand so she could see the sprig in it. “It’s a custom I learned of while travelling. The Rohirrim, whose king I am in the service of, have a custom at their own Yule celebrations that anyone caught underneath mistletoe must give a kiss to the person who caught them under it. They hang the mistletoe above doorways to catch the unsuspecting, but I thought I would just carry mine with me.”  
  
This brought a round of laughter, after which Auntie Buttercup declared, “If that is the custom, then I owe you a kiss and not the other way around!”  
  
To more laughter and some approving claps, I bent and let Auntie kiss my cheek. When I stood up and bid the ladies good day, I caught Mum’s eye across the room. She winked.  


  
***  
  


At tea, I kissed Holly and Dora, both age eight, when I caught them under my hand with their heads together, whispering their childish secrets. They listened with great interest to the custom of the mistletoe and then provided me with a number of suggestions about good places in the Hall to hang sprigs to catch someone for a kiss.  
  
At supper, I dangled the sprig over Merilac’s head in his mother’s arms and gave him a smacky kiss. He laughed in delight and declared, “Stow it!” before putting his arms around me and kissing me enthusiastically.  
  
“That’s your fault, I hear,” Violet said.  
  
“Sorry, Vi,” I said. “Pippin’s fault, really. You should take it up with him,” and I handed Merilac back and beat a hasty retreat.  
  
I spent the next several days kissing the cheek of every elderly auntie, wee lass and baby in Brandy Hall, and very pointedly not kissing a single cheek belonging to an unmarried lass anywhere near my age. On the third day, I walked into the main dining hall for supper only to notice a sprig of mistletoe dangling from each lintel. I was craning my head to look for Mother to point them out when I suddenly spotted her coming into the room. Before I could call out, Father came in at her heels, snatched her about the waist before she could get through the door, and loudly demanded his kiss.  
  
Mother delivered her forfeit, to much cheering and laughter, and then curtsied in thanks to the room. I applauded along with everyone else, and grinned in triumph.  


  
***  
  


I went back to Crickhollow that afternoon, set free from the Hall for the next few weeks, as Pippin and I planned to spend the first fortnight of Foreyule at Bag End. Mother and Father wanted me to have a bit of a holiday before the festivities, and their requisite hosting duties, began in truth. As soon as I walked in the door, a scarf hurtled through the air and caught me in the head.  
  
“Hullo, Pip,” I said, and hung the scarf up with my cloak.  
  
“Hullo, Merry,” he said. “I suppose I’ve you to thank for being mauled by Clover Proudfoot at The Scattered Hare last night. Nick’s hung mistletoe in every nook and cranny of the place. You can’t take a step without being set upon.”  
  
I grimaced -- Clover Proudfoot is not the most gentle or fairest of lasses, and she has been smitten with Pippin for years. Then I perked up at the thought of mistletoe all over The Scattered Hare.  
  
“Sorry about Clover,” I said. “Still, can’t be such a bad thing, mistletoe all over the inn.”  
  
“Well, I suppose not,” Pippin said. “I did get caught by the Sandheaver sisters, too. All of them. And I may have snuck up on Opal Grubb. And Rosebud Burrows.”  
  
I sighed in appreciation and clapped him on the shoulder. “Doesn’t sound like such a poor evening,” I said, and Pippin sighed a little dreamily himself.  
  
“No, not so awful,” he said.  
  
“Think you’re up to facing the travails again tonight?” I asked. “I think I should see for myself how my idea is faring, don’t you?”  
  
“It does seem like the proper thing to do,” Pippin agreed, and grinned at me. “Especially as I hear you’ve been running about the Hall this week seeking the affections of rather different sorts of lasses than usual.”  
  
“I’m very popular these days in the playroom and at the aunties’ sewing circle,” I said solemnly.  
  
“It’s good to know you’ll have some choices to fall back on after you’ve fallen out with the rest of the lasses of marriageable age in Buckland,” Pippin said, adding, “Which will be soon at the rate you’ve been making the rounds.”  
  
He dived out from under my hand before I could grab him by the collar, and I chased him with enthusiasm through the house, led on by his cackling laughter.  


  
***  
  


The tales of Buckland’s new mistletoe custom had already reached the Shire proper by the time Pippin and I arrived at Hobbiton, courtesy no doubt of Fredegar and Estella Bolger, who’d beaten us to Bag End and Frodo’s very well-laid table by half a day.  
  
“If you’d come to me for advice about courting, Merry,” Frodo said after embracing me in greeting, “I’d have recommended you seek out some lasses closer to your own age.”  
  
“Variety, Frodo, variety,” I said sagely. “Life is dull without it.”  
  
That earned me a laugh, as did producing my mistletoe sprig when I greeted Rosie and dangled it over her head. She gave me a polite kiss on the cheek, and then bestowed one upon Pippin as well in response to his dramatic pout.  
  
“Your time’d be better spent chasing after sweet unmarried lasses, and not old married ones like me, lads,” Rosie said teasingly, and Sam piped in with, “I’ll second that,” before he hugged us both.  
  
“There seems to be a sad lack of sweet unmarried lasses who will accept my affections, or so I’m told,” I said. “Still, I’ll go try my luck in the other room.”  
  
The only unmarried lass in the other room, of course, was Estella Bolger, who gave me a condescending look upon my approach that was anything but sweet.  
  
“If it isn’t the Shire matchmaker,” she said. “Or match-ruiner -- I can’t decide which path this new custom is most likely to lead to.”  
  
“It’s all in good fun, Stell,” I said, and dangled the mistletoe over her head. “Now you’re caught.”  
  
“I believe that makes you the last eligible lass in Buckland, finally to be ensnared by our Master Brandybuck,” Frodo said in amusement, coming into the room behind me, Pippin in tow.  
  
“Hmph,” Estella said, but a hint of a smile touched her lips. “I’m not caught so easily. If you’ll look at Merry’s hand, you’ll see it isn’t really me he’s holding that mistletoe over.” And with that she hopped off her perch on the arm of Frodo’s sofa. Slumped in the corner, head back and sound asleep, was her brother Fredegar. And to be fair to Estella, directly above him was my sprig of mistletoe.  
  
Never let it be said that Meriadoc Brandybuck failed to follow the rules of his own customs. I grabbed Fredegar’s face in my hands and planted a firm, loud, long kiss right on his lips. Freddy flailed and said, “Buzzatt!” in confusion, while Frodo and Pippin applauded and cheered and Estella laughed.  
  
“Cheers, Freddy,” I said when we parted, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
“Happy Yule, Merry,” he said pleasantly.  
  
“Cheers, indeed, Merry,” Frodo said, and his eyes were shining with the merriment of the old days. “You’re a good sport.”  
  
I bowed to him grandly, and then pocketed the mistletoe for further use. After all, the holiday season had just begun.  
  
Cheers indeed, and a very happy Yule.


End file.
